


Burnt flesh and dust are real turn ons

by BunnyBot



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Parody, Sterek and fandom tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyBot/pseuds/BunnyBot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott's passed out from having his arm tattoo'd with a blowtorch and Isaac's possibly dying in the next room, so this is of course the perfect time for sloppy makeouts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burnt flesh and dust are real turn ons

**Author's Note:**

> Okay just to get this out of the way first, this is not a very positive look at fandom Sterek tropes. Like at all. This takes place during "Tattoo" between Scott getting his tattoo from Derek and Isaac waking up.

The house was dusty, dirty, and the scent of burnt flesh was still in the air and yet Stiles felt compelled to make out with Derek. The table he was pressed to groaned and threatened to dump the two of them onto the floor, while in the chair next to it Scott was still passed out from having the flesh on his arm branded with a blowtorch. 

“See I told him getting a tattoo was a stupid idea,” gasped Stiles between kisses. 

“Shut up,” growled Derek, gripping at Stiles’ longer hair, appreciating that now he could tug on Stiles’ head easier than ever (which he totally knew Stiles had because they were like working together over the summer).

“No but really,” Stiles moaned as Derek moved from his lips to kiss and bite down his neck. “Did he really need to get a tattoo now? Like isn’t Isaac bleeding out or something?”  
Derek just grunted, clearly not listening to Stiles ramble. He was used to hearing the teenager talk on and on, especially during sex, and just thought that Stiles liked the sound of his own voice. 

As Derek’s hands were slipping beneath Stiles’ shirt, Stiles abruptly tried to sit up. Derek pushed him back down easily. “No hey hey, listen to me Sourwolf!” Stiles smacked his hand against Derek’s shoulders to wrench the older man’s attention away from playing with his nipples. “Isn’t Isaac hurt in the next room?”

Derek paused, inclining his head to listen to the sounds around the house for a second. “He’s still breathing,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the gangly but beautiful teenager layed out beneath him.

“Oh good,” sighed Stiles, relaxing once again under Derek’s ministrations. He’d proved his place as pack mom by showing a brief amount of concern for another person and could now fully turn his attention back to getting off.


End file.
